


reputation.

by rxtrogression



Category: The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Lawyers, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Fluff and Angst, Humor, Light Angst, M/M, a little nsfw, this actually kinda gets meta haha, warning: taylor swift
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-08
Updated: 2018-03-09
Packaged: 2019-03-28 18:00:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 4,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13909281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rxtrogression/pseuds/rxtrogression
Summary: He’ll be Newt’s end game, one day.After he finishes with this stupid tax evader.





	1. reputation.

**Author's Note:**

> hi hi hi! today is my day off from studying, so i decided to whip out a multi-chapter fic in my continued boycott against youtube. 
> 
> listen to reputation [here!](https://open.spotify.com/album/6DEjYFkNZh67HP7R9PSZvv?si=sPuCmouGR9mDBgrkGQvi1w)
> 
> enjoy!

"We think we know someone, but the truth is that we only know

the version of them that they have chosen to show us."

_-_ Taylor Swift, from _Reputation [Prologue]._


	2. ready for it?

_In the middle of the night, in my dreams,_

_I know I'm gonna be with you,_

_So I take my time._

_Are you ready for it?_

 

* * *

 

 

Newt looks like the embodiment of sin, with tousled hair, dark eyes, and a cigarette in his mouth. He’s donned in a leather jacket and black ripped jeans, muscles rippling beneath his tight white band tee, and all Thomas can think about is ripping the grunge attire off the blond. 

 

Usually, he spots his boss around the office floor in a fitted suit, muttering about legal matters (or idiots, like Thomas), slamming files on desks, and emanating irritation. It’s hard to focus when his superior looks like a supermodel all the time, but you’d never hear that from Thomas’ lips.

 

The Glade is a nationwide renowned corporate law firm based in Los Angeles, California, and a daughter firm of WICKED Law Group. Thomas is lucky he has a paid position at all as an associate, this fresh out of Stanford law. 

 

Wow, out of Stanford? Thomas, you must be a genius! 

 

And, frequently asked?

 

No, he doesn’t deal with any exciting cases— he’s a tax lawyer. Yes, it can be boring sometimes. But in all honesty, he enjoys his work. Cases are like little mazes. He can only operate within a set few rules, and some solutions only lead to dead ends, but there’s always a way out. No, he’s not a genius. He just comes up with some wacky answers to frustrating problems. 

 

He digresses.

 

His thoughts always seem to come back to two things, these days. Firstly, the case on hand. Secondly? His eye-candy of a boss.

 

Said boss who is… currently looking Thomas up and down, like a tasty treat, almost, nodding in approval. And yeah, Thomas’ gay ass might be dreaming right now, but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t take advantage of the delicious sight his mind is supplying him. 

 

He can take his time here.


	3. end game.

_And I can't let you go, your hand print's on my soul—_

_It's like your eyes are liquor, it's like your body is gold._

 

* * *

 

Thomas has made it his mission to seduce Newt Issacs. Not out of obsession, necessarily (because pfft, no, he’s not obsessed with the guy. He’s just— very, _very_ gay), but more to see if he can. It’s like a game; he serves looks, and his boss volleys everything back over the metaphorical net without so much as a glance. 

 

Heaven help Thomas, Newt’s ass looks _so good_ in those khakis. It’s Friday, which means business casual day. Also commonly known to Thomas and his small ##Newtmas Support Group™ (just Minho) as “Thomas Drools Over Newt in Semi-Casual Attire”. 

 

And yeah, maybe he’s a little gone. He can’t really help it, though. He just has a habit of falling for people who break hearts. There’s no denying it: Mr. Issacs is an absolute asshole. He’s British, so there’s _that_. He’s pompous, filthy rich, and his bisexuality knows no bounds. Except, it seems, when it comes to Thomas. Which, under any other circumstance, would deter him, but he feels a little more compelled to try harder when it comes to the blond.

 

There’s also the minuscule detail that Newt is currently taken, but that’s irrelevant in the grand scheme of things. 

 

He’ll be Newt’s end game, one day.

 

After he finishes with this stupid tax evader.


	4. i did something bad.

_This is how the world works:_

_You gotta leave before you get left._

 

* * *

 

Newt’s heart is shattering.

 

He hates doing this, every time. Thomas isn’t making this any easier on him. The brunet enraptures him, draws him in with every shy glance. He knows that Thomas could treat him well. Could, maybe, love him in a way that’s real. Not love him for his reputation or his wealth. And yet, the same suffocating feeling of _commitment_ seeps through his veins like poison. 

 

Every relationship, every god damned time.

 

He backs out. 

 

They agreed to just fucking. Just fooling around for a few months. But there are _strings attached_ now, and he can’t have that. It’s not just a violation of the rules; he was thrust into his position by inheritance. He can’t fuck that up. If he were to have a bad rep, the PR team would rip out his insides like vultures.

 

There’s a twink in his bed now, and his name’s not Thomas. No, Thomas is elsewhere, probably still working on the fuckton of useless files Newt dropped on his desk. Maybe he’s questioning Newt’s rather ambiguous text. Maybe he’s crying. A rush of sick satisfaction burns its way through his chest, and he bites a little harder than he should on the shoulder of the twink. 

 

Newt’s heart is broken, yes, but at least he's dragged Thomas down with him.


	5. don't blame me.

_Don't blame me, love made me crazy._

_If it doesn't, you ain't doin' it right;_

_Lord, save me, my drug is my baby_

_I'd be usin' for the rest of my life_

 

* * *

 

 

When Newt corners him at the office’s New Year’s party, Thomas thinks his prayers have _finally_ been answered. 

 

And can you really blame him? He’s mentally parading around with a victory flag as Newt kisses him soundly on the lips, cheers erupting in the lobby adjacent as the clock strikes 12. 

 

_Achievement unlocked!!_ His brain screams in Minho’s voice. _Mission accomplished! Operation successful! Can’t spell success without succ!!!!! Get in his pants!!!_

 

Newt’s lips are a whole new level of _holy shit_ , and Thomas thinks he might faint from lack of oxygen. The man is only a year older than him, but the fireworks between them are setting off a fuse deep up his ass, and he’s so head over heels for Newt that he’s physically falling into the blond’s arms, scrambling for purchase and desperately chasing after more. His brain is short-circuiting, leaving thoughts unfinished in favour of raw emotions.

 

With a smirk, Newt deals out his Love Drug with his mouth, and Thomas is hooked on the feeling of dopamine shooting through his system.


	6. delicate.

_Long night, with your hands up in my hair;_

_Echoes of your footsteps on the stairs;_

_Stay here, honey, I don't wanna share._

 

* * *

 

The first time Newt gets Thomas under the sheets, they’re excessively sober for New Year’s, and he has, quite possibly, had the lamest sex in his life. But Thomas is a quick learner, and he’s not afraid to be open, _out there_. Newt’s kind of scared, if he’s honest. Thomas is so vulnerable, and Newt isn’t the type of person to be trusted with that sort of responsibility. Any day, he’d take a hundred case files over Thomas’ wide eyes beneath him, pupils dilated and facial expression fixed in something akin to worshipful. 

 

And Newt’s heart, curse it, gets attached. He gets attached too easily for somebody who sleeps around, and it wrecks him. He doesn’t want to feel anything more than lust for Thomas. 

 

Unfortunately, he also doesn’t want to share. 

 

Their fuckbuddy-ship is a delicate matter, but Newt doesn’t want it to go to waste if he doesn’t have to. Thomas is fun. Thomas is attractive.

 

“It’s so hot when you say ‘Tommy’,” the brunet gasps out, leg wedged between Newt’s and grinding _just_ so as the latter attacks Thomas’ throat with rough kisses.

 

_Tommy_? 

 

Newt would frown, but Thomas’ skin is slightly salty and tastes like home, and he can’t be assed to care about his Freudian slip. 

 

So instead, he bites down, not hard enough to break skin, but enough to elicit a satisfying moan.

 

-

 

Thomas can pretend Newt is his, during these brief moments.

 

-

 

Newt knows this can’t last.


	7. look what you made me do.

_But I got smarter, I got harder in the nick of time;_

_Honey, I rose up from the dead, I do it all the time;_

_I've got a list of names and yours is in red, underlined._

 

* * *

 

He always knew he was going to have his heart broken. And yes, as Minho tells him often enough, he’s probably being a smidge too overdramatic right now, but what can he say? Newt’s text is burned in the dark of his eyelids. What kind of person ends a relationship over text? What kind of person does that, then dumps another few hours of work on your desk?

 

_A fuckboooyyy_ , his brain drawls out, in Minho’s voice _again_ , damn that boy.

 

He taps furiously away at his computer, compiling presentable notes and e-mailing more people than he should at this hour. This is ridiculous. His eyes glance over at the little digital clock in the corner. 

 

8:21 PM.

 

He’s never hated anybody so much with a burning passion. And for something as silly as reputation _._

 

_-_

 

_Today, 4:53 PM_

 

_Newt: Can’t risk rep. We’re done._

 

-

 

(Really, his hate only stretches as far as the sting of betrayal in his veins. He doesn’t hate Newt, not really. He hates that he doesn’t hate the man, and for that, hates himself.)


	8. so it goes.

_You did a number on me,_

_But honestly, baby, who’s counting?_

 

* * *

 

It’s been a few months since Newt’s heartless text, and Thomas attacks his work with vigour, doing anything to forget the feeling of Newt’s hot skin beneath his fingertips. 

 

And so it goes.

 

Newt doesn’t address him as Tommy anymore. They’re back to their little game; only, Thomas is the sole player in the field.

 

When he’s on his coffee break and witnesses the unfamiliar sight of Newt’s hands low on Teresa’s hips, the pieces fall into place.

 

Of course they broke up.

 

It was all for reputation.


	9. gorgeous.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> here's some fluff ahaha

_And I'm so furious_

_At you for making me feel this way,_

_But, what can I say?_

_You're gorgeous._

 

* * *

 

It doesn’t matter that Newt is fucking any and everything that moves; Thomas can’t get him out of his head, and his stupid gaydar goes _wild_ whenever his boss walks by. With every passing day, his resentment for the Glade and the people in it burns a little more. Minho is his only source of relief, offering distractions. Needless to say, ##Newtmas Support Group™ has fallen to pieces (like his poor, betrayed heart), and has instead become ###Thominho Angst Hours Ltd ®. 

 

In a surprising turn of events, Teresa has joined their little pity party, having been long-since victimized by Newt’s sex life. And every Friday, without fail, the three partake in Movie Night ©, where they watch rom-coms and throw popcorn at Minho’s ridiculously large TV. 

 

They’re watching _Love, Actually_ this week, and Thomas and Teresa are sobbing melodramatically while clinging to each other as the credits roll.

 

“God,” Thomas wails. “Keira Knightley is such a QUEEN,”

 

The bowl of popcorn crashes to the floor.

 

“Sam looks like a smaller version of Issacs,” Teresa whispers, furious.

 

Thomas drops his overdramatic, pained expression. “Don’t push that problematic fucktard onto sweet little Sam.”

 

-

 

To Minho’s left, his cat lets out an exasperated _mrowr_.

 

“Dude,” Minho sighs. “Same.”


	10. getaway car

_X marks the spot, where we fell apart;_

_It hit you like a shotgun shot to the heart._

 

* * *

 

Maybe in another universe, Thomas and Newt end up together. Maybe they’re running elsewhere, trying to save the world. Maybe they’re the focus of an epic love story. In any case, they’re certainly not an item in this universe.

 

They didn’t meet romantically. Newt interviewed him, decided he “would do” with a disdainful sniff, and they talked working hours. Alby, Newt’s assistant, gave him a tour of the office. He got his photo taken, a painfully stiff smile against the backdrop of pristine walls and the Pacific Ocean beyond glass. His career was shaping up to be something successful.

 

And it still was. He didn’t think he was going anywhere else in the foreseeable future, and he got paid enough to live in his own little condo. But he craved something new, a thirst for adventure that leaving Palo Alto gave him. Was it so out of the realm of possibility for Newt to show up with a car and take them both somewhere far, far away?

 

-

 

With a resigned sigh, Thomas continues working on his current case. He doesn’t like the sound of the client, but for reasons he can’t put his finger on. Everything about Aris Jones seems to check out.

 

His search out of the maze continues.

 

-

 

As he spins in his chair, twirling a pen, Newt wonders why Thomas hasn’t come crawling back. Hell, he got left on read, and even though he’s slightly shorter with his temper when it comes to Newt, the brunet has surprisingly kept his cool. 

 

That makes Thomas a little more attractive, he won’t lie— but his presence doesn’t seem welcome around the associate anymore, and he knows when to back off. He’ll let them have their fun, Thomas, Minho, and Teresa. They can do whatever they like. 

 

See if he cares. As long as his reputation is preserved, he doesn’t give half a fuck.

 

(Why does it feel like he’s bleeding out from a gunshot?)


	11. Chapter 11

_Late in the night, the city's asleep;_

_Your love is a secret I'm hoping, dreaming, dying to keep._

_Change my priorities—_

_The taste of your lips is my idea of luxury._

 

* * *

 

Thomas cancels on Movie Night © for the first time in months. Minho’s cool with it, relieved, even, but Teresa is pesky, and probably the voice of reason Thomas should listen to.

 

“Tom, you swore to yourself that you’d never get involved with the man again. What are you doing?”

 

What is he doing, indeed. He’s questioning his actions, wondering where the hell he went wrong, why he’s in Newt’s arms once more. 

 

Truth be told, he doesn’t think he ever stopped liking Newt. They’re panting in Thomas’ bed, for once, and the blond is everything Thomas dreamed. 

 

They fall back into sex much like they fall back into their old game. That is to say, Thomas as the lone player.

 

He doesn’t mind it, though, if it means getting to steal a taste of Newt’s lips.

 

Reputation be damned.


	12. Chapter 12

_I could've spent forever with your hands in my pockets,_

_Picture of your face in an invisible locket._

_You said there was nothing in the world that could stop it;_

_I had a bad feeling._

 

* * *

 

Newt is frowning. Not an unusual occurrence, but what _is_ unusual is Thomas’ re-excitement over their rekindled fuck-buddyship. He doesn’t know what’s got the boy bouncing on his toes, acting like the world is in the palm of his hand.

 

_Perhaps,_ a small voice whispers to him. _Perhaps he knows this time is different_.

 

And it is. Newt doesn’t come back to people. He certainly does _not_ knock on their door at 11:53 PM and pin them against their own kitchen countertop. He doesn’t make love to them like some rom-com protagonist. 

 

No, sex is business. Everybody knows he sleeps around. Nobody says a word. His erratic sex life is what keeps people from exploiting any sort of weakness of his. There are no strings attached— only the ghostly promise of a promotion and making it big in their world. Is he corrupt? Maybe. But he didn’t ask to be thrust into the spotlight of power. The media can’t touch him if they want to keep their business running, so PR teams are caught at a stalemate. 

 

People have learned to accept it. They have nothing to lose and everything to gain, as does Newt, so long as he keeps his single position.

 

So he dances a dangerous routine, hands bound in invisible cuffs. He won’t let strings trip him up.


	13. dress.

_Flashback when you met me,_

_Your buzzcut and my hair bleached;_

_Even in my worst times, you could see the best of me._

 

* * *

 

Thomas’ interview for a new job with the main WICKED Law Group is in a few hours. The Glade was good for experience, but when receiving an offer from Dr. Ava Paige for a chat, you don’t say no. He’s maybe, just maybe, a little selfish for leaving The Glade behind him, but in his defence, he’s ready for greener pastures.

 

Newt knows this. Perhaps a little too well. And he’s taken back to the day they met.

 

-

 

“Mr. Emerson,” Newt sighs. “Take a seat.” He hopes his tired tone conveys how done he is with the whole interview process. The brunet before him sits down carefully, hands clasping nervously in front of him. Newt already doesn’t have high hopes, but a quick scan through the man’s resume tells him to wait before giving him the boot.

 

It doesn’t hurt that he looks kind of attractive, short hair growing out of a buzzcut, soft, dewy hazel eyes, and a cute button nose. He’s obviously cleaned himself up for this interview, and Newt doesn’t have the heart to dismiss his efforts so soon.

 

“So, Mr. Emerson,” he begins. The brunet opens his mouth, as if to interrupt him, but he shuts himself up with an audible snap. “Yes?”

 

He flushes red. “I just… no. Nothing, sir.” Newt raises an eyebrow. 

 

“Thomas is fine, sir,” he hastily explains, turning a deeper shade of red. Yeah, okay, Newt can’t lie to himself anymore. It’s cute. He carefully fixes his features into something neutral.

 

“— Thomas. Tell me about yourself.”

 

-

 

The nostalgia is a little sickening. 


	14. this is why we can't have nice things.

_This is why we can't have nice things, honey,_

_Did you think I wouldn't hear all the things you said about me?_

 

* * *

 

The press is savage in Los Angeles. It seems like Newt can’t do a single thing without making headlines in the Daily Mail or some other tabloid, and he hates that. Going out in public with Thomas somehow equates to “taking Thomas out on a date”? 

 

They’re two mates having a corporate brunch together, for fucks sake. There’s nothing romantic about it.

 

So what, if they share a smoothie? It’s cheaper than getting two of them, and they wanted the same flavour.

 

So what, if he and Thomas occasionally steal from each other’s plates? If they’re laughing and talking and he’s actually enjoying himself, for once?

 

He shakes his head in disbelief as he scrolls through the latest news stories on Snapchat. 

 

“Newt the Cute, Finally Settling Down?”

 

“Corporate Mastermind, Dating!”

 

He can’t even read any of these with a straight face.


	15. call it what you want.

_And I know I make the same mistakes every time,_

_Bridges burn, I never learn, at least I did one thing right;_

_I did one thing right._

 

* * *

 

After getting over the initial blow to his reputation, Newt thinks he can get used to this. The Glade’s PR team had an absolute field trip, trying to pacify the paparazzi. Gally sat him down for a solid hour, talking about what he could and could not do as an _officially_ taken man.

 

The media is a frenzy over the “Issacs Family Scandal”, or “Bullshit™”, as Tommy so fondly calls it.

 

Tommy.

 

Tommy didn’t have the same things to worry about, regarding public image. Still doesn’t, seeing as he’s being moved to WICKED Law Group a few ways across the city. He gets an office now, not just a corner cubicle, and life is working out splendidly for the Stanford graduate.

 

Newt, on the other hand, stands over the remnants of his reputation, hand in hand with Thomas. The public knows about his ventures. They know about his previous business tactics. And yet, by some miracle, he’s kept his position. He supposes it’s because he never toed the line of harassment. Despite what the media wants to believe, he’s treated his partners well. Even Teresa, perhaps the feistiest in his firm, can’t argue with that. He’s put on probation by Dr. Paige for the public, and that’s the end of that.

 

Life goes on. 

 

In all honesty, it’s okay. Everything fades to dust when Tommy smiles at him, and he can’t give a flying fuck about what the media says.

 

Let them call it what they want; he thinks he might be falling in love.


	16. new year's day.

_Please don't ever become a stranger whose laugh I could recognize anywhere._

 

* * *

 

It’s been a year since they got together for the first time.

 

They’re in the office’s main lobby, the smell of champagne and hopeful dreams in the air.

 

The first time was experimental, an attempt to establish boundaries. 

 

This time, as the countdown hits 1, Newt tenderly cups Thomas’ face with both hands.

 

“I love you,” he breathes. 

 

Thomas’ eyes are shining with unspilled tears of happiness. After a year of on and off fuckbuddery, mixed feelings, and a stupid, _stupid_ reputation to uphold, this is it. Thomas is Newt’s end game. Everything he’s gone through: what he was ready for, all the dancing around each other, the anger, _this_ is their getaway car. 

 

He places a chaste kiss on Thomas’ lips.

 

And his beautiful Tommy smiles up at him, beaming, a joyful tear trickling down his cheek. 

 

“I love you, too.”

 

* * *

 

_ There’s glitter on the floor after the party, _

_ Girls carrying their shoes down in the lobby, _

_ Candle wax and Polaroids on the hardwood floor; _

_ You and me, _

_ Forevermore. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and that's that, folks! thanks for sticking around :D 
> 
> some notes:
> 
> 1\. some aspects of the actual law firm job might be off? i only ever interned at a law firm, so this is lowkey based off my own experience working in one.
> 
> 2\. chapter titles, quotes, and title all from Taylor Swift's "reputation". 
> 
> 3\. not super proud of this, but for a first attempt at something relatively humourous, it's. okay? lmao. let me know what you think!
> 
> anyways, that's it from me for now. idk how active i'll be in the next few weeks, but ahh long disappearances from me aren't out of the ordinary, haha.
> 
> yell at me on [tumblr!](http://rxtrogression.tumblr.com/)


	17. why she disappeared - author commentary.

hey so i know i originally said the fic didn’t warrant a commentary and methods blurb, but i actually kinda wanna get it out of my system, so. let me tell you guys a story.

 

2017 was, quite possibly, the worst year of my life. lots of things were spiralling out of control for me, and i was in a shitty place, both physically and mentally. my best-friendship of about 4 years had become extremely toxic, and at one point in the school year, i was the most hated person. my personal reputation as “the quiet bookworm who never starts anything” morphed into “the bitch who bullies and puts others down to make herself feel better”.

 

i could only watch as my entire social life, basically, unraveled. and that sounds overly dramatic, i know, but last year was overly dramatic. i gained about 20 pounds, was crying probably every other day, obsessively edited videos to relieve stress, fell short of high expectations people had of me, and my anxiety and poor communication just led to disaster. it all sort of leads back to my friendship falling apart, i guess? we had a rather explosive fall out. it was hollywood high school drama taken to the max, honestly. shortly after, i ran for a stuco position. it was supposed to be harmless, but during the campaign, this huge string of rumours started up and basically wrecked me. i don’t really like talking about it, but eventually it led to more drama and people walking on eggshells around me. my editing life was getting thrown to the wolves too, all because of, ding ding, _more_ drama happening around the community. i had a whopping total of five friends. and yes, they were, and continue to be, good friends, but even they couldn’t stop my reputation from falling to pieces. i was publicly humiliated during the campaign and speeches, and every faculty member at my school failed me. literally everybody who could have done something to prevent drama didn’t do shit. i was _furious_. 

 

it sounds cliche, i know, but when taylor swift dropped reputation? i had never related to an album more. her situation was much different than mine, obviously, but we were similar in that our old selves were ripped apart by misunderstandings and rumours and left to rot in the gutter. 

 

but you know what? it’s almost been a year since that shit went down.

 

and i’m okay now! i have a lovely social network, understanding parents, and i’ve learned to trust myself. the rumours have long since died down, probably because, yknow, i never actually did anything to warrant them, and it’s the last year, and i’m dead to a lot of people anyways. 

 

while i was still inspired enough to write, i figured it would be beneficial to write a goodbye to my old self. i never really let go of the rumours— they sort of defined a huge part of my mental state going back to school, and september and october were awful months. so this fic was a retrospective sayonara to the shitty things that piled on top of me. newt and thomas found peace. i did too.

 

to emphasize. i AM okay. i’m not angry anymore. i’ve let bygones be bygones. the only thing i suffer from is senioritis, though graduation will clear that up soon enough :P

 

so, yeah. bye, 2000-2017 amy. you were a riot. 

 

bet, i'm out.

-avery


End file.
